


The Holy Water Incident

by Canadian_girl2000



Series: A Series of Unfortunate Events [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Crowley Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24461767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canadian_girl2000/pseuds/Canadian_girl2000
Summary: It had been a rather typical, boring day. At least, that's how Crowley deemed it. He and Aziraphale were walking around, enjoying the world that hadn't ended after a nice meal at one of the angel’s favourite restaurants. It was completely random and by accident that they walked past an old church, with a few people gathered outside. It was completely random that one of them had a flask of Holy Water. It didn't make much sense to him, he was wearing his sunglasses, so his eyes were covered, as they usually were and there was nothing to indicate he was a demon.Out of the blue, one of the people gathered by the church saw him and yelled "Demon!"
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: A Series of Unfortunate Events [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766866
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	The Holy Water Incident

It had been a rather typical, boring day. At least, that's how Crowley deemed it. He and Aziraphale were walking around, enjoying the world that hadn't ended after a nice meal at one of the angel’s favourite restaurants. It was completely random and by accident that they walked past an old church, with a few people gathered outside. It was completely random that one of them had a flask of Holy Water. It didn't make much sense to him, he was wearing his sunglasses, so his eyes were covered, as they usually were and there was nothing to indicate he was a demon.

Out of the blue, one of the people gathered by the church saw him and yelled "Demon!" And before he knew it, he was doused in something and then everything burned. His vision went white. He couldn't see. Everything hurt. He could hear screams echoing around him but couldn't make anything out. His knees trembled, gave out and he crashed to the floor. Everything hurt. He could feel the Holy water sliding down his face, leaving burn marks along his skin. He could hear a scream. Was that him screaming? Everything hurt. Make it stop. Someone make it stop. Please. It hurts.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched violently. His vision slowly came back. He was sitting on a couch, someone was talking to him. He couldn't understand what was being said. Then he saw him. The angel. Oh shit, there was an angel. He jerked so hard he fell off the couch. He scrambled away as fast as he could, back hitting a wall. If he'd seen the face of the angel, he would have seen the hurt and confused expression. But his vision had gone black. He was going to die. Everything burned and there was an angel with him.

He could feel a presence in front of him. He was trapped, cornered and his expression reflected his terror. He was going to die. Then, he could hear talking again.  
"...ley! Crowley! It's me, it's Aziraphale! It's alright, we're back in the bookshop. I won't hurt you!" The voice kept talking, and slowly, it grounded him. He was slowly able to see again. He looked around, his horrified expression still on his face. Right, he knew where he was. This was the bookshop. That belonged to the angel. The angel was his friend. His gaze slowly landed on Aziraphale, whose face was full of concern. Aziraphale probably saw the recognition in his eyes, because he reached forward with a cloth and started whipping off the Holy water. With water. Crowley couldn't stop the flinch. Everything still hurt.  
"It's only water, Crowley. I'm going to try to wipe off the Holy water" Aziraphale said, realizing why he had flinched, before continuing. It was amazing that he managed because Crowley was still a shaking mess on the floor, backed into a corner. Eventually, after what felt like hours, he managed, with the help of Aziraphale, to shamble over and sit on the couch. Aziraphale, after assuring himself that Crowley was okay, or at least, better than he was before, went to make some tea for them.

Crowley couldn't stop shaking. Even with the Holy water whipped away, it still burned. He briefly wondered how ridiculous he looked to anyone else. Powerful Demon, reduced to a quivering mess. Holy water hurt like, well, hurt like hell may not be very accurate. It hurt worse than that. It was horrible. If there had been any more, the situation would have been much worse. Now that he thought about it, any amount of holy water should have killed him. How was he still alive?

Aziraphale came back and handed him a mug. It took him a few attempts with his shaking hands to hold it without dropping it. He slowly took a sip, then went back to staring blankly ahead. On his right, Aziraphale sat down as well, occasionally glancing over at him, the concern never leaving his face. They sat there for hours, one worried, the other shaking. 

Finally, when he felt he could talk without bursting into tears or screaming, Crowley spoke.  
"I'm sorry," he said, practically whispering. Aziraphale almost didn't hear him.  
"What are you sorry about? You have nothing to apologize for."  
"That was... unprofessional of me. I'm sorry." Suddenly, the tea in his mug looked that much more interesting. He stared into it, refusing to look up. He could see his hands, they had streak marks where the Holy water had run down. They still hurt. He had to resist the urge to rub and scratch them.  
"Crowley, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for! It wasn't your fault! There was no way we could have known it would happen and your response to it was completely normal. I've seen what Holy water can do to a Demon. We were lucky that it was just some water that man had boiled in his kitchen, and that it wasn't from a church!" Aziraphale insisted. Crowley could feel his gaze and starred harder into his mug. He didn't say anything, didn't trust his voice. There was a sigh beside him.  
"Are you feeling better?"  
If he'd wanted to, Crowley could have lied. Said yes and left it there. Or at least, hoped to have left it there. But he couldn't lie to Aziraphale.  
"A little," he replied, taking another sip. He hated that his hands were shaking and he glared at them as if that would stop the tremor. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and only then did he realize. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses. His panic must have been visible because Aziraphale caught it.  
"Crowley? What's wrong?"  
Crowley’s eyes flickered around the bookshop, trying to see if they had fallen off before or after the trip to the shop. They weren't there, meaning they were probably lying in the London streets. He jumped to his feet and stumbled into a bookshelf, desperately trying to get to his car.  
"Crowley! Where on earth are you going! Please,, tell me what's wrong" Aziraphale had moved to steady Crowley, but stopped once the demon flinched away. "Please, my dear, what's wrong?" he repeated in a soft voice, standing close, but not close enough to touch the demon.  
"My sunglasses! Where are they? I need my sunglasses!" Crowley exclaimed trying once more to get his balance but failing and stumbling into Aziraphale, who caught him. Aziraphale was worried. It spoke volumes about Crowley's mental state that he hadn't simply thought to miracle up a new pair. Crowley stopped struggling, letting himself sink to the floor, taking the angel down with him. There wasn’t much Aziraphale could do but hold him through it. With a thought, he conjured up a new pair of sunglasses, identical to Crowley’s usual ones, and handed them to the demon.  
“Here, my dear. I’ve miracled some new ones”  
A shaking hand grabbed them, and Crowley put them back on.   
“I’m sorry,” he said again. 

Then something Aziraphale rarely saw happened. Crowley started to cry. Albeit silently, and though Crowley tried to hide his tear, Aziraphale saw clean through the demon's charade. Aziraphale could count on one hand the number of times he had seen Crowley cry. Demons saw crying as a weakness, and Crowley was trying desperately to stop the flow of tears. He didn’t want to seem any weaker than he already did. Aziraphale brought the demon’s head to his chest, where no one could see him.  
“Let it go, my dear,” he said, bringing a hand to Crowley’s hair as he slowly began running his fingers through it. At his words, the floodgates opened. Aziraphale knew that the demon wasn’t only crying about the incident from today. He was letting everything he had been keeping locked away for millennia out. He shook and sobbed as he tried to bury his face further into the angel’s chest. Through it all, Aziraphale held him, letting him know he would never be alone or judged again. He continued running his hand through Crowley’s hair until the demon stopped crying. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he didn’t care. He would stay here forever if that’s what Crowley needed.

When Crowley finally lifted his head from the angel’s chest, he was exhausted. He started to apologize again, feeling horrible. He’d just ruined the angel’s favourite coat, for Satan’s sake. Before he could get a word out, Aziraphale shushed him.  
“It’s alright, my dear. It’s alright.” Aziraphale shifted, allowing him to see Crowley's face. “Come now. Let’s get you back to the couch.” He stood, and helped Crowley get to his feet. Were it not for the angel holding him, Crowley would have collapsed almost immediately. Aziraphale led him to the couch, where Crowley curled up, bringing his legs up to his chest. Aziraphale sat next to him. He looked at Crowley, noting how exhausted the demon looked, and slowly, to not frighten the demon, he reached out and pulled him onto his lap. Aziraphale’s hand made it back to Crowley’s hair and the demon gave a content sigh.   
“Rest now, my dear. I’ll keep watch” Aziraphale said, grabbing a book from the small table next to the couch. Reading with one hand was difficult, but he still kept his other hand running through the exhausted demon’s hair.

Crowley, for the first time since the incident, finally felt calm. He was still in pain, but he was in the safest place in the world. Right next to his angel. With a small smile, he let sleep take him. Right as he slipped under, he felt the angel take off his sunglasses and he heard him whisper: “and may you dream of whatever you like best.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this fic sitting around for a while and well, what better day to post it then on the anniversary of the show!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!


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